Seven Spanish Angels
by gwmclintock9
Summary: This is a songfic, and literally uses the song to write the fic. You will notice the song through out this. But here you go: There were seven Spanish angels, at the altar of the Sun. They were praying for the lovers at the valley of the gun. H/HR.


He did not know how long he had. Nor did he know how long she had. All he knew was that he would give his life for her. "They're coming love, please, let me go," he begged her. She threw her arms around his neck, holding him tighter then he had ever thought possible.

"I can't, I won't let you go without me," she cried. Her hot tears hit his neck and he shuddered with fear. They had fought longer and harder than anyone they knew. They had run away from the backlash, wanting to live in peace, if but for a little while. Now that peace was gone. Gone forever.

It had been several long years since the war had started. Several long years and so many friends lost. So many funerals they had to go too. And now, they just wanted to be left along, to protect their love.

He had done everything to protect her, and she could not do any less for him. But they both knew that she had to protect what could remain after this fight. After this attack. She had to be strong. But looking up at him, she did not know if she could. He pulled back from her, and she let him go, letting him walk to the window and back. This was it.

He looked down into her brown eyes, said, "say a prayer for me."

She threw her arms around him, whispered, "God will keep us free." They could hear the riders coming.

He said, "this is my last fight. If they take me back tonight, they won't take me back alive." She cried even harder into his neck as he just stood there holding her. She knew she could not reason with him, not when she could see the determination in his eyes. Not when they had something so strong to protect. But could she protect it without him? She felt a piece of her die as she watched him step away from him.

"I love you, and nothing will ever change that," he said. Wrapping his hand in her hair, he kissed her. A kiss that lasted a lifetime. A kiss for each tear that their broken hearts had cried. They had given up so much so they could stand here today.

They were the winners, yet there was nothing they could do now. Their actions were warranted by the evil, yet the evil still came knocking at there door.

She felt the tug of him pull away from her, and she did the only thing she could think of: kiss him harder. As long as she had this moment, their love would live. Even if they did not.

He mouthed to her as he left, weapon in hand, "forgive me." She wanted to nod, and tell him that she did. She wanted to be strong for him. But the tears she cried told the truth.

He stood tall, strong for her. She needed him, and he needed her. Without one, there could not be the either. He knew that, but it did not stop him from wanting to save her. Or their love.

He could see them approaching. Watching them come at him at a steady speed. Gripping his weapon, he would not show fear to them. Fear is the mind killer. He had let the fear in, let it become him, and as his mind fought the fear, all that remained was his strength. His love; their love.

Despite the early morning sun that was just rising, he could see the storm following the riders. The riders coming to take him away from his love. He had fought worse odds, he won worse odds. But today, he did not know if he could win. He did not know if he was strong enough to protect them. He had to be though, he had to stand strong and protect all that he had built with his love.

Closing his eyes, he took a breath, and let the riders of the storm come to him. They stopped before him. They did not speak, and he had no words for them. What use were words when both sides knew how it must end?

Raising his weapon, he pointed it at the leader of the rider. If he was lucky, and he had been quite a bit for most of his life, he could take out at least one of them before they hit him. Better men then he had been taken from their loves by these riders, all because they had stood their ground. He knew he was no different.

She turned her back to the sound of the riders arrival. She knew what would happen. She had to keep her promise to him. She had to stay safe, she had to keep their love alive, she had to -

The thunder hit outside their door, and she turned to look. The door was gone. But he wasn't. He lay on the ground, his weapon in his hands. She felt the rest of her soul leave her as she stared at his motionless body.

Her world was gone. She felt time stop, nothing matter anymore. She was wrong, he was wrong, they weren't strong enough to live without the other. And she knew their love would die if she did not do something.

"Forgive me." She whispered to her soul and her love as she rushed out the door.

She reached down and picked up the weapon, that lay smoking in his hand. She said, "Father, please forgive me. I can't make it with out my man." And she knew the weapon was empty, and she knew she couldn't win.

Her final prayer was answered, as the riders fired again.

That was the day that love died, between two of the purest souls in the world. The day that evil, though defeated, had won. The day when love was just too strong to be left alone. It was a day of great mourning for the world. For it was the day that evil was gone, yet so was their hero.

They were buried side by side. Holding hands that even the best could not remove from the other. It was fitting it seemed. That in life they were not separated, and so the same in death.

On their shared tombstone was written a seven lined poem, one their red-haired best friend had chosen for them. It read:

_There were seven Spanish angels  
At the Alter of the Sun.  
They were prayin' for the lovers,  
In the valley of the gun.  
When the battle stopped,  
And the smoke cleared.  
There was thunder from the throne  
And seven Spanish Angels,  
Took another angel home._

And so came the worldly end of one of the purest loves to grace the halls of Hogwarts. And so ended the story of Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Loved.

A/N: I do not claim any ownership to the works of art of either JKR or the duo of Ray Charles and Willie Nelson. Thank you and good night.


End file.
